


A Failure; Aflutter

by empathy_junkie



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: F/F, Homophobic Slurs, Post-Canon, Toxic Relationships, alcohol use, rape mention, strange writing methods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 03:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20370007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathy_junkie/pseuds/empathy_junkie
Summary: A series of post-canon moments between Juri and Shiori. Moments undo decades.





	A Failure; Aflutter

The prince doesn't think to knock on the princess's door. It's ajar, to begin with. To conclude with, the prince is well aware that the princess is desirous of his presence.

Because she had a friend give her a call as a proxy. Because she was 'too drunk to use the phone'.

_She said you'd pick her up. She gave me her phone. You are Arisugawa, aren't you? _

And damn her, she'd said 'Yes.'

Now, there is only a door between the two of them; not twenty minutes of driving and two flights of stairs. Why should the prince wait any longer?

She steps into the room.

There is a single bed right before her, and a table to its side where a lamp stands, filling the room with shadows.

The princess is swaddled in blankets.

It had been almost a year since Juri had gazed upon that pale, round face. It had been at a party where Juri had only expected to see coworkers and future employers; yet Shiori had shown up uninvited. They had made eye-contact. And that was all.

It certainly wasn’t an interaction which could prepare Juri for a 3am phone-call. No. Their entire previous history had done that, and the feelings which had burned in her heart while that history was unfolding returned to her now as phantoms.

The prince advances.

Shiori stirs.

"There you are." She's filthy drunk. Her words are mockeries.

Juri can't speak for a moment. All at once, she's angrier than she was upon waking up; more terrified than she was upon losing Shiori in the crowd on that long-gone evening.

She clears her throat. "Are you ok? Let me help you up. I can drive you home."

The girl laughs. "I can't believe it." She tries to pull herself up. "Hello, Arisugawa. Come into bed with me. So I can see you."

Juri doesn't move. "Sorry. I can't understand you."

Shiori falls forward like a doll with its strings cut. Her voice is further distorted by feathery plush. "Oh, of course."

Her neck swivels sideways and her lips are free. "Come into bed with me, Juri, and then you can take me home."

_No. _She doesn't need to say it. Shiori has no idea what _she's _saying, at all. So Juri has to expedite. She approaches the bed like a toy soldier.

"No." Well, anyway. "Let me help you. It's late."

Shiori whines. As the last of her rank breath escapes her lips, Juri gets close enough to see her blotchy, sweaty face. Her hazel eyes droop yet remain open. Juri's azure tighten. 

"Shiori. Please."

"Then pull me up," comes the gentle slur.

_I don't even know if I could. _Juri crosses her arms; waits_. Christ_, she thinks._ Perhaps that was the point._ An ugly warmth spread across the prince's as the reality of her situation becomes clear.

"You aren't planning on leaving tonight, are you?" she says. 

Shiori just sighs. "Arisugawa," for the second time, she fails to articulate the name at all. "I haven't stopped thinking all night, and I kept thinking about _you_."

"What?"

Shiori sighs again. She wriggles her helpless body like a newborn animal. She makes it onto her back, legs still partially under the covers. Skirt entirely twisted around her waist. Pearly stomach rising and falling heavily.

"I haven't stopped thinking," she says, dizzy from the exertion. "You had so many chances to do it but you never acted like you wanted to. So. I thought I could help."

A pause. "Shiori, you're not making sense -"

"Let me finish!"

Juri grinds her teeth. Even in the semi-darkness, being gazed upon by unfocused eyes, she feels horribly exposed. It's clear that she was still searching for meaning when she answered the phone; still holding onto the notion that it was natural and vital that the two of them were connected.

And she was wrong. If Shiori weren't on the verge of blacking out, it would have been easy to assume this was what she _wanted_: this cruel, sudden introspection.

Yet Juri could still beat her own self. She could learn her lesson once and for all. She _would _let the girl in the bed continue.

"What do you want?" she asks.

Shiori opens her little mouth.

"I was thinking. I'm wasted, and nobody's here. I won't remember anything. I was thinking, wouldn't you like me this way? Since you hate me otherwise. This must have been what you were waiting for."

Juri freezes. Shiori looks at her with faltering eyes.

"Just fuck me. Please. You don't have to be so ashamed, you know. Are you?"

Juri can't be hearing this. Juri can't be _here. _Juri's feet manage to get her backwards a few steps before Shiori's voice assaults her again. Still, their eyes are locked together.

"Juri. Please? I've missed you so much. Come to bed with me. You're still a dyke, aren't you?"

Juri hardly feels the heat of her own tears.

"I'm so wasted and I'm just trying to do something nice for you." The girl pleads. "You want me, don't you? Would it really make you feel that filthy to touch me? I won't even know what you're doing. Would it really hurt you so much?"

The prince is retreating. She utters a fatal command as her marbled body allows her to turn her back on the writhing, twisting, moaning child who will never lure her into a trap again.

"Shiori. Go to sleep."

And then the door closes. 


End file.
